


Heart of Darkness

by Lady_Nuwanda



Series: Heart of Darkness [1]
Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: CharacterXReader Smut, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 14:28:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20707529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Nuwanda/pseuds/Lady_Nuwanda





	1. Dancing with the Devil

It was another of Miss Venable’s unbearably boring events she had the audacity to call “parties”. Sometimes I felt she took more pleasure in watching us suffer through them, then on the thing itself. She was weird like that.

Tonight we would have a Victorian Ball, she said. When was it not a Victorian Ball in Outpost 3, I wondered. What with those silly costumes and absurdly chaste rules, I already felt like I was living out a Jane Austen novel on a daily basis… except it was post-Apocalypse Jane Austen. So no charmingly brooding young heirs for me.

The difference from every other jell-o cube dinner we had had and tonight, was that there would be dancing. Waltzing, to be more precise. (I wasn’t sure, but I was inclined to believe there was some serious anachronisms to this concept, but Miss Venable seemed pleased enough with how everything had turned out for her Victorian Ball… and I was far past the point of caring.)

So there were Coco and Gallant, being annoyingly happy on the dance floor. Dinah Stevens channeling what I could only assume was her inner Queen Victoria while her son followed, looking unhappy as always (well, not always… but he’s been nothing but unhappy since the whole “the stew is Stu” incident). And for some mysterious reason, I ended up paired with that Cooperative big-shot, Michael Langdon, who got here all by himself last week… to my dismay, that guy scared the living daylight out of me.

First of all, I have mentioned he got there alone almost two years after the fallout… I mean, how suspicious is that?! And he talked about this so-called Sanctuary, that apparently could save us all, but he would get to choose which ones (if anyone) of us could go, through those creepy-ass interviews he was putting people through.

I’ve been doing my very best to stay bellow his radar for the past few days… successfully so! So how come I was now standing in front of him, one hand resting on his shoulder, the other stupidly holding my skirt? He had one hand behind his back, and I could feel the warm and firm touch of the other on the small of my back… a part of my brain (the part that was not completely terrified yet) wondered why the feel of his hot grasp was giving me the shivers. Like someone kept pouring ice-cold water down my back, but at the same time I was pretty sure there would be a burn mark with the shape of his hand there, when the dance was over.

The music started, and I was barely listening to it, just stumbling on my own feet, thinking “don’t step on his toes, whatever you do, stay away from his toes, fall flat on your face if you have to, just not on his fucking toes”… I didn’t want to look at my feet, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at him either, so I kept staring at my own hand on his shoulder. Holding back tears, for some reason.

I was in the middle of picturing his free hand closing tightly around my throat (probably as punishment for tripping on air, and bumping into him), when the picture in my mind was replaced by something completely different: Michael Langdon choking me, while fucking me mercilessly.

I almost tripped for real at that, but somehow managed to avoid it. And just as suddenly as it happened, it was gone. What was that? Why would I think about myself in bed with that man? Why would that thought even cross my mind?

I shook my head to dismiss the idea, and his grasp on my waist got even firmer. That’s when I thought, quite vividly, about both his warm hands holding on to my butt-cheeks, spreading them slightly apart as he was thrusting his cock deep inside my cunt, both of us morning loudly with blind pleasure.

What the actual hell???

I felt myself blush bright red and was already having a hard time breathing as it was, but I decided to look at him. I had to know what he was thinking, if he knew what I was thinking, if he had anything to do at all with my suddenly wild imagination.

Gathering whatever nerve I had, I lifted my eyes to his face and found his icy blue eyes staring deeply into mine. I knew I was blushing even harder now, but his cold gaze was just… bored. I felt so stupid. Blushing like I school-girl, aroused as a teenager (I could feel myself soaking through my ridiculous purple underwear, and wouldn’t be long before I was dripping down my own thighs)… and the man was all but yawning at me! I lowered my eyes to my feet in shame.

Big mistake. So big. Huge. As soon as I looked at my own feet, I saw in horror that the tip of one expensive black boot was under one of them. I had no time to think of his crushed toes, in my mind I was riding his thigh in bed, facing his feet, leaning over to suck fiercely at his toe.

What? Sucking his toe? Do people still do that? That sounds like such a 90’s kink… why would I do that?

I was looking at him wide-eyed, silently apologising, and I noticed he now had an annoyed expression on his face. The picture in my mind changed again, I was now riding his cock, kissing his neck with enthusiasm. Well, at least that’s better than toe-sucking, I thought… and I could see the faintest shadow of a smirk dance on one corner of his lips.

Could it be… was he… nah! Not possible! Come on… like Cooperative big-shot is capable of mind control! Seriously?

In my mind I was close to release sitting on his lap, his hand held an iron grip on my hair pulling my head back while he kissed my neck, the other planted a hard slap on my ass, making me scream and cum, all at once. I was kissing his lips now, his beautiful plump, rosy lips. I could feel, more than hear, his moans in my mouth as he was approaching release as well, I bit hard into his lower lip and felt his cock throbbing deep inside me, spilling his seed, as I closed my eyes in ecstasy.

I looked at him again, appalled at my own imagination, he was still staring down at me. The tip os his tongue passed gently over his own lower lip and I for a split second saw a spark behind the ice of his eyes. I gasped loudly.

Holy shit! It IS him! I don’t know how, and it makes no sense, but he’s putting these thoughts inside my head. Whaaat?

The waltz was finally coming to an end, I could no longer take my eyes from his. As the final notes were being played, I felt the tip os his nose brush lightly against mine. I closed my eyes, surrendering myself completely to him, and immediately opened them again, startled: He was no longer there. In fact, he was nowhere to be seen. I looked around, and everyone was chatting animatedly. No one seemed to notice my confusion, or the fact that Michael Langdon had just vanished in the air. I was standing alone on the dance floor, blushing and panting something fierce.

I took the fact that no one was paying attention to me as an opportunity to retire to my own room. I needed to wash my face in cold water, desperately. At this point I shouldn’t be surprised to find Michael Langdon standing next to my bed when I opened the door to my bedroom, but I had to cover my mouth with both my hands to keep myself from screaming.

“Did you enjoy my little gift for you?”, he asked in his mild mannered ways. “You know, I could give you dreams, too… if you like”, he was walking towards me, now, like a jungle cat approaching a startled deer. “But your reactions were just so adorable, I thought I might show you what I can do on the flesh… so to speak. Close the door.”


	2. Taste the Forbidden Fruit

“Close the door.”

I would like to tell you that in a heartbeat I had the door shut and bolted, and was already losing myself in his arms. But the truth is that I just kept staring at him with my “deer under headlights” eyes.

His sensual jungle cat walk came to halt only inches away from were I was standing. His hand went around my body in a fluid motion. He closed the door silently and I felt his, already familiar, touch on the small of my back. I hadn’t noticed how much I missed the feel of his hand on me until it was back there. Were it belonged.

“Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you. Unless you want me to.”, he used the knuckle of his long forefinger to gently lift my chin, so I could face him straight on. “Just breath.”, I inhaled at the same time he did, staring into his ocean blue eyes, now so soft and warm, nothing of that icy glint I had seen there before. By the time I exhaled, I felt completely calm, my heart already beating at a normal pace, like he was breathing peace into me. A feeling of tranquility spreading all over my body from the point were his hand held my back, pulling me closer to him.

“Now, where were we?”, his nose was brushing lightly against mine again. Before closing my eyes in surrender one more time, I felt myself grabbing the lapels of his dinner jacket with both my hands. I wasn’t thinking, I was just desperately trying to make sure he wasn’t going to disappear this time.

He was still there. The touch of those honey lips was completely overpowering. Like I lost sensitivity of my entire body, except my lips. Like I was feeling his kiss with my whole being. I small part of my brain told me that the gentle tongue on mine tasted like something I knew, but I couldn’t focus enough to figure out what exactly. I was lost in that kiss, I couldn’t get enough. Nothing else was real.

At some point I noticed that my knees had already given in beneath me, and that I was standing up supported by his hands alone. He gave me something between a smirk and a grin, and took me to the bed, his lips now caressing my neck, and the scent of his hair taking over my senses. It was somewhat similar to the taste of his tongue, sweet and exquisite. Intense, and yet fresh. Like a crisp Autumn nightfall.

He undressed me slowly, savouring the moment. Running his fingertips and lips on every bit of newly exposed skin, like it gave him immense pleasure. He ended up undressing himself too, since my shaky finger seemed unable to undo a single button of his shirt, until he was naked in front of me. In all his glory.

The sight of his godlike figure was the spark that lit the fire deep inside my soul, I finally regained control of my wits. I was suddenly a force of nature myself, I could no longer be restrained. I looked at him, one eyebrow lifted, a devilish smile spreading on my lips, mirroring the knowing look on his face. He smiled, proud of the chaos he had created.

I kissed his mouth passionately. Sucking and biting onto his lips, attacking his sweet tongue with all I’d got, until he was laying helpless on his back. I moved on to kissing his neck in a way that was sure to leave a bruise, not that I cared, while he moaned delighted, encouraging me. I was on his chest now, fingernails tracing my way to his nipples. I bit gently on the sensitive skin and covered the bites with my tongue and lips, still going downward to his stomach. I felt him flex his belly muscles under my tongue and heard him gasp loudly. I couldn’t hold back anymore, I had to take him in my mouth, it was as vital as the very air I breathed.

Apples. He tasted like apples. That was the delicious scent I was getting from him. The sweetest and juiciest apple of them all. And I was ready to eat him up, with all the hunger of almost two years of hideous jell-o cube dinners. I needed to have him. All of him. I didn’t care that he was too big, he couldn’t quite fit in my mouth. I cared even less about his hands tangled in my hair, or the gentle rocking of his hips against my face. I cared only about the moaning of his deep voice, and how to make it louder.

In one swift motion he pulled away and turned us both around together, so now I was laying on my back, him on top of me, between my legs. His lips slightly parted, his eyes staring down at me, looking pleasantly surprised. I wasn’t done, I bit onto his lower lip defiantly. He entered me fast and hard, crying out in both pain and pleasure, his eyes closed tight.

It was like nothing I had ever felt before. He hit all the right spots right away, and an orgasm ran me over like a train. He chuckled, looking very pleased with himself, while I trembled under the weight of his body, digging my fingernails on the smooth skin of his back. He pulled away, never leaving the warm and wet nest of my body completely and thrust into me again, sending a new bolt of pleasure up my spine and into my brain, making me scream in pure ecstasy.

He seemed to enjoy watching me almost as much as what he was doing, and with every other thrust a new wave of pleasure washed over me, each one stronger than the one before. I was tightening myself around him and I could see he was losing control, his thrusts became harder and steadier. And with a final thrust I rode out my last orgasm, at the same time he was throbbing deep inside me, spilling himself in blind abandon. I tightened myself even harder, trying to keep him inside me for as long as possible.

He rested his forehead against mine, both of us breathing heavily in unison. We were trembling uncontrollably as one, I could feel tears stinging my closed eyes and felt one of his dropping on my cheek. I never wanted to let him go, but I knew I couldn’t move even if I wanted to. His body, his breathing were all that was real in the universe. And that moment could last forever.

Who was this man? How did he end up here? How did I end up here? And why? I had no idea. But it was a mystery I was willing to give my life to solve. Giving my life didn’t seem like that big of a deal, anyway… after all, I had already survived the Apocalypse. Both of us had. How much worse can it get, am I right?!


	3. From the Tree of Knowledge

I was walking through the most lovely forrest, a garden if you like… fresh green and a profusion of other colours all around me. Its beauty would have been overwhelming, if it wasn’t absolutely pleasant. I found myself before a magnificent apple tree, its fruits ripe and inviting. I took one of the sweet scented apples in my hand, I could almost see my own reflexion on the perfect red skin. I’m not even that fond of apples, but those were irresistible. I had to take a bite.

A dark blurred shape hit my hand, and knocked the apple from my grasp. It fell to the garden ground and was completely rotten almost immediately, a huge black serpent was next to it. A part of me, the self-preservation part, thought that I should get myself away from the slithering creature as fast as possible… but I couldn’t. The serpent was staring me in the eyes like it had a conscience, like it knew me. “Not you”, it hissed, “you’re not one of them”.

The strange black serpent did a very human movement with its head, indicating I should follow it. The black scaled body moving quickly among the trees, glistening red in the sun. I followed the serpent to the edge of the forrest, to a nuclear desert. It was a cold and dark wasteland and I wasn’t feeling the least bit inclined to keep going. The serpent looked at me again with those unsettling sentient eyes “Trust me. I can keep you safe.” With a loud thunder and the flash of lightning, suddenly, the serpent’s face seemed almost human. Not exactly human, more like a demon. A white-faced demon.

I woke up, heart racing, in my own dim-lit room, still feeling the cold from the desert I saw in the dream. The flames from the fireplace had turned to embers and some very loud noise had startled me into wakefulness. For a confusing moment I thought it was the thunder, but with a grim realisation I knew it was a gunshot that I heard. Outpost 3 was now silent as a catacomb.

I covered my naked body with a heavy purple robe, trying to get some warmth from its velvety texture, the memories of Michael Langdon and his surprisingly gentle lovemaking still vivid on my mind… and in my body. I felt myself blush again, recalling my own unusually bold behaviour, as I opened the door he had closed a few hours before, and went outside my room looking for him. I also wanted to know if the gunshot I had heard was real. But mostly I wanted to find him.

I looked down at the now silent hall from the balcony, and the nightmarish scene before me made me wish I could wake up, naked in my bed, with my heart racing again: They were all dead. All of them. The people I had lived with for the past months, the Purples and the Greys. All dead. Lying in puddles of blood and filth. Their bodies contorted and faces twisted in pain. Mallory had a bitten apple still clutched on her hand. There were many of those thrown around the corpses. With a shiver I remembered that I, too, had been tasting apples a few moments before. But I was not dead. Why was I not dead? (Which is a strange thing to question in this situation, but the mind can surprise us like that.)

“They had it coming, you know… they were bad people”, Michael Langdon was standing by my side, I had no idea how or when he had gotten there. I looked at him, through teary eyes. I was shaking violently and I couldn’t breathe, no matter how hard I tried I just couldn’t seem to get any air into my lungs. He held me in his arms trying to calm me down, running his fingers through my hair and trying to lull me with soothing shushing sounds. I was crying openly now, my breath coming in in gasps and out in sobs, grabbing the front of his dinner jacket in my fists, face buried on his chest. His sweet apple-like scent was doing nothing for my nerves, and I was wailing the shock out of my body, my knees giving in beneath me for the second time tonight, but for a whole different reason.

“You don’t need to be afraid, you’re not doomed to their fate… you’re nothing like them”, what was he saying? I was exactly like them! Had I not been living in this God-forsaken Outpost with them all this time? Wearing stupid purple gowns and eating jell-o cubes with them? Well, I like to think I’m less shallow than Gallant and Coco. And Gallant’s grandmother (may she rest in peace… well, may all of them rest in peace now, I guess), I hope I’m also very much NOT like that horrible Dinah Stevens woman, all self-righteousness and no empathy, whatsoever… not even for her own son! I’m really not the kind of person who would buy my way into one of these Outposts, protecting my own safety, while the whole world was burned to the ground. I was brought here against my will by Cooperative officers, who claimed I had special DNA, or something. Much like Tim and Emily.

Oh, poor Tim and Emily… they were so in love! All they wanted was to be together, and now they were lying dead together in their own vomit, like a very unsanitary Romeo and Juliet. Poor Andre Stevens, I hoped he was with Stu now, and finally a little less miserable. Still, I don’t think he deserved such a horrible death. Any of them to be honest… The Greys! I can’t believe anyone could possibly think they were bad people. The closest thing I had to a friend in the Outpost was the soft-spoken Mallory, who always had a kind word and a gentle smile to spare, who held my hand more then once when I was feeling sick. Or just homesick. Who I had stayed up all night with, simply talking like we were two teenage friends at a slumber party (in spite of the fact that neither of us had been a teenager for years, and life in the Outpost was basically the farthest thing from a slumber party you could get), so many times when I couldn’t sleep, or would wake up because of a nightmare… She definitely didn’t deserve to die like this.

“Not you… You’re not one of them…”, WHAT? Say what now, Mr. Langdon? Even though his honeyed voice sounded smooth, as it always did when he talked so close to my ear, I could still hear the echo of the hissed tone in which I had heard those very same words being said before. I moved slowly to look him in the eyes, a new kind of shock growing inside me “What did you just say?”. He looked at me with an expression of the utmost benevolence on his face, that seemed completely out of place in the present scenario. “I would never leave you there, knowing what Venable had in mind. That is why I decided to humor her, and attend her so-called party. To get you out of it. To get you safe.”

“You knew? And you did nothing to stop her?”, I couldn’t believe how casually he was talking about the hideous massacre of all my companions. He chuckled, like I was being incredibly naive “Stop her? Now, why would I do that? I had her, and everyone else for that matter, exactly where I wanted. I had you safe. And then I had my Ms. Mead to take care of Venable, when she was no longer useful…”, he looked down at the hall again and I followed his gaze. Mead was dragging Venable’s corpse through all the mess on the floor and left her in the middle of the hall. I could see that Venable’s body was wounded. She had been shot. The gunshot I heard.

“But why? Why save… ME?”, that was probably a stupid question to make. I guess I was supposed to just thank him and consider myself lucky. But it made no sense. In the middle of all the shock and horror, it felt very important to know why he had spared me. He looked at me in a funny way, like he felt sorry for me. Like I was a very dear child he was supposed to guard and protect. “You’re only confused now because you don’t remember… but I think it’s time you do”, he placed his hands lightly on my shoulders, leaned in and kissed me, very gently, between the eyebrows.

And I remembered.


	4. Sealed with a Kiss

Waking up at a place you don’t know where it is having no idea how the hell you’ve gotten there. What fun.

All I could feel was a blinding pain at the back of my head, but when I tried to bring a hand to it I saw that I couldn’t move it. In fact I couldn’t move at all. Anything except my eyes, and I was looking around madly, as best as I could, panic growing in my chest. I was lying on a hard surface, like a table, in a dim-lit room, I could see there was someone else in the room from the corner of my eyes.

It was a man, not much more than a boy, walking busily around the room, lighting candles and reciting words in what sounded like Latin. When he turned around I lost my breath for a moment and I felt like my heart had skipped a beat. He had the most beautiful face I had even seen in my life, framed by silky golden curls. It’s not an exaggeration when I say he looked like an angel. His face looked positively radiant, specially in contrast with his black clothes, but his expression was so utterly miserable, it was sort of heartbreaking.

He stopped by the table, speaking louder now (definitely Latin, and although I couldn’t quite make out the actual meaning of the words, it already sounded ominous enough) and I saw a flash of silver when he raised his red gloved hands. A knife. Oh, shit! I would have screamed if I could make a sound. The fact that he didn’t look very happy either was no consolation. He looked at me like he was about to apologise and I could tell something made him stop on his tracks. “You’re not a virgin”, he furrowed his brows at me.

Panic gave place to confusion, and I felt a crease appearing between my eyebrows as well. He rolled his eyes muttering “oh, fuck it” under his breath. With a careless red wave of one hand whatever was holding me still was gone, and I could move again. I sat up on the table as he walked to an armchair and sat down looking exhausted. I knew I was definitely not off whatever hook he had me on, but I couldn’t avoid the warm feeling of relief that took me when he dropped the knife to the floor by the armchair and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You were supposed to be a virgin. I can’t believe Miss Mead got it wrong… she was never wrong, you see? Not my Miss Mead!”, I was thinking that it was funny the way he said “my Miss Mead”, like everyone was supposed to have a Miss Mead, but that made me think of the lady I met at work. She had pleasant manners and sparkly green eyes, and I remember thinking I wanted to look half as cool when I got to her age, with the faux mohawk and black lipstick… the pain on the back of my head stung again. Whoever this Miss Mead was, she probably knocked me unconscious and dragged me to this place.

He was still muttering to himself and I had no idea what I was supposed to do or say when his blue gaze fell on me again “… I mean, you ARE the girl from the library, right?”. I nodded stupidly. “And you’re not a virgin… now that’s a surprise!”, I wasn’t sure if I should be more offended that he simply assumed I was a virgin because I worked in the library, or by his disgusted tone when he said I wasn’t. I couldn’t tell exactly what kind of shaming he was giving me, but I knew there was some. And to my surprise I heard myself saying “I’m sorry” like a complete idiot.

“Well, you should be! You were supposed to serve a greater purpose, I was supposed to consume the heart of a virgin tonight… but now I can’t, can I? Miss Mead is already back at Kineros to have her memory erased and it’s too late for me to find and capture someone else before the eclipse is over.”, very little of what he said made any sense to me, and he seemed to be talking more to himself anyway, but I think I got the meaning of the part about consuming a heart. Consuming. What a civilised way to say he was gonna cut my chest open with that silver knife of his, rip my bloody heart out and eat it raw before my corpse was even cold. “All because you humans have to succumb to lust all the time… was it lust, or are you gonna tell me it was love?”, his icy blue eyes were on me again.

What was I going to say? Should I tell him it was love? Would that somehow make me less tainted, and therefore more eligible for heart-eating? Why should I even be honest to this psycho? Was I supposed to open my metaphorical heart to this very literal heart-eater? What for? But then I noticed something weird in what he’d just said “you humans”? This whole conversation somehow managed to get crazier by the minute…

He raised himself from the armchair and was walking towards me now. “It was love. You loved him dearly. He was… your best friend. You trusted him with your life, but he betrayed that trust. He broke your heart”, he placed both hands, in those unsettling red gloves, on the table in front of me, by my feet, and looked deep into my eyes, “I can see it like a physical trait, you carry it around like a scar.”. I felt tears stinging my eyes and looked away. How did he know? Who was this guy? WHAT was he? “Was it worth it? Giving yourself to this man only to have your heart crushed afterwards… human-beings are pathetic with this obsession with carnal pleasure. And the way you think it has something to do with love… It’s pitiful, really.”

“Why do you talk about human beings like that… like you’re not one?”, what was I thinking? Why was I asking that kind of question to this lunatic? Was I so in shock that I was no longer thinking properly? He merely chuckled. “Because I’m not.”, he turned his face the other way and pulled his hair to the side, to show me this painful looking mark behind his ear, a small 666 in an intricate design that seemed to have been iron branded there. He looked at me again and his face was no longer his face, it was a white mask of evil that made my blood freeze in my veins. Just as suddenly as it appeared, it was gone and he was giving me the most angelic smile. “My name is Michael Langdon, and I am the Antichrist.” I can’t explain why, and it wasn’t just the satisfied tone in which he had said those words, but I knew this wasn’t a trick. He was the real deal, there was absolutely no doubt in my mind. I knew it in my very soul, and fear took hold of my heart like it was grabbed by a cold hand.

He walked around the table and sat casually next to me, it looked almost like we were school kids, chatting in between classes. It‘s amazing that, with everything that was going on, there was still room left in my brain to think about how nice he smelled. “I know you wanna ask me another question… come on, don’t be shy”, he smirked, he seemed to be having fun. Like a particularly wicked cat playing with a mouse before killing it off. “It’s so annoying how people never seem to be able to be honest with me… they always get all ‘pleases’ and ‘I’m sorrys’, they never answer my questions with the truth, it’s always what they think I wanna hear, you have no idea how frustrating it is!”, I talked before I could stop myself “Well can you blame them?”, I made a sound that was very much like laughter and pressed my lips together to keep myself from talking any longer.

Shock. Definitely shock. What else but shock could explain the way I was talking to the actual Devil? But he didn’t seem angry, he was more… amused. “What do you mean?”, the smirk was almost a grin now. Well, fuck it. I’m probably not gonna leave this place alive, anyway, why should I worry about what I say to him? “Well…” I continued like I didn’t care at all about my own life “… you’ve got that whole situation going on”, I made a vague hand gesture encompassing his attire, “don’t get me wrong! It’s fantastic! But maybe just a little… intense. You can’t dress like that and then act surprised when people are a little intimidated by you!”

He was laughing. The Antichrist was laughing at something I had said. Not laughing at me, but sorta with me. Like he was enjoying my company. Like this was… fun? The same man who was casually talking about eating my heart out a few moments before. “I guess you’re right” he was giving me the brightest of smiles now “maybe I am intimidating, as you say. I’ll tell you what: I promise not to hurt you during this entire conversation, if you promise me you’re gonna be a hundred percent honest, deal?”

In case you haven’t noticed, he never promised he wasn’t going to kill me eventually. And then there was the fact that the actual Devil was offering me an actual deal. I realised I had very little to lose at this point so I shook the hand he offered me. “Good! Now, I’m hungry… are you hungry? We should find something to eat, since you’ve ruined my original dinner plans…” he jumped off the table laughing at his own dark joke “… I can’t cook, tho, can you cook? Nevermind! We’ll have peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and call it the night. Do you like peanut butter and jelly?”, “Yes” my reply was barely more than a whisper, and I still couldn’t make myself move as he was already leaving the room. He stopped by the door and looked at me “Come on! I think my Miss Mead left me some chocolate milk in the fridge… it should be a little treat!”, he flashed me another bright smile. Still feeling slightly lightheaded, I followed the Antichrist into his Miss Mead’s kitchen.

He threw his leather coat on the back of a chair and discarded the red gloves on the counter, he was untying his ascot (an ascot! now that’s something you don’t see everyday…) and unbuttoning the collar of his dress shirt. He was still insanely overdressed for a peanut butter and jelly dinner, but he seemed far more relaxed. I, on the other hand, felt absurdly underdressed in a sleeveless little thing, that looked more like a white nightgown, and absolutely nothing underneath. The sheer fabric made me feel exposed, so I braced myself, rubbing my own arms with my hands. As if the feeling of warmth from the gesture could make me feel less vulnerable. “Are you cold? Here…”, he took off his jacket and placed it over my shoulders, his hands were surprisingly gentle and warm, but the unexpected touch made me shiver, anyway. He didn’t seem to notice and proceeded to folding up the sleeves of his shirt, revealing lightly tanned forearms, with veins that looked like they had been carved in marble.

He placed a tall glass of chocolate milk on the table and pulled me a chair, turning around to busy himself with cupboard doors, plates and sandwich ingredients. I sat down, looking at the glass and thinking about how surreal this was. I wanted to be afraid of him. I knew I should run away from that kitchen. But he was being so… nice! He was humming tunelessly to himself while preparing sandwiches, it felt like he was genuinely happy to have company for dinner. But I wasn’t imagining things, was I? He had been about to carve my heart out a few moments before, hadn’t he? So how could I feel so warm and cosy in his company now? Is that what Stockholm Syndrome feels like?

A few minutes later he put a plate in front of me, with a PB&J sandwich in it. I had to smile a little to myself when I noticed that the crust had been neatly cut out. He sat on the chair across from me and took his own sandwich in his large hands. As I saw him take a ravenous bite I couldn’t help thinking about what had been originally on the menu tonight. It was only after he licked strawberry jam off one of his long fingers that he looked at me again. It would be a big fat lie if said I could taste the sandwich at all, but I had been chewing my first bite for a long time before I remembered how swallowing worked.

“What did you need a virgin’s heart for?”, I asked before I could stop myself. “It was a ritual”, he swallowed the bite he had been chewing, “to bring me closer to my father, to give me power so I could fulfil his purpose. I guess I’m gonna have to make do without it now” he shrugged. “My turn: how come you’re not a virgin, Library-Girl? We’ve been watching you… you’re not seeing anyone, you’ve got very little social life to begin with. It was an honest mistake, if you think about it…”

Like hell it was! So I was almost murdered over a stereotype? The spinster librarian, who lives alone with a thousand cats… Ridiculous! Except that I really was single. And I did have a cat. Oh, no! My cat! I hoped my next door neighbour would notice I had not come home, and use the spare-key to get into my apartment and feed my Vanilla, when she was feeding her Luna… Do you think Langdon would let me use the phone for a second?

“You said so yourself, I was in love. And he broke my heart.”, that’s definitely the least comfortable sex-talk in the entire history of conversations. “Ah, but he wasn’t the only one, was he? You also did it with guys you were not in love with… why?”, it wasn’t a rhetorical question, he seemed honestly puzzled. And he was right. Even after having my heart shattered to pieces, I could still take other men into my bed. I hadn’t trusted anyone again, but that doesn’t mean I had chosen celibacy. I had to think for a while before replying this time “Because… it feels good.”, it was my turn to shrug now. He slapped the table, startling me, “I knew it! See, that’s the problem with mankind, that’s why you’re all doomed: you only care about immediate gratification. Sex, drugs… whatever! You’re just walking around the Earth looking for your next high, destroying everything on the way…”

“You’re telling me that you don’t have this problem?” to be honest, I was beginning to feel a little tired of his air of superiority. “I’m not blinded by instincts, like you people. My actions are not motivated by animalistic impulse, I have a purpose.” He took a deep breath and drank from his glass of chocolate milk “But that’s not the question’s that’s been pulsing in your brain for the last few minutes, is it? Go ahead, ask it.”

“So you are… a virgin?”

“Naturally.”

“You’ve got a milk moustache.”

What?! I needed to gain some time! “Naturally” was so not the answer I was expecting! He wiped his lips with a napkin and met my eyes again “Why is that such a foreign concept to you?”

“Because there’s a crazy little thing called desire… it’s a very powerful force!”

“Distractions.”

“Welcome distractions!”

“Not really.”

“You must have been a very weird teenager…”

“I was never a teenager.”

The look of confusion on my face probably spoke volumes, for he kept talking “I was born on the 14th of December, 2011. One night, a couple of years ago, I went to bed as a child, and the next morning I woke up… like this.” Flawless, would have been the natural complement to this statement, but for once I managed to stay quiet, I just kept looking at him wide-eyed with my mouth slightly open. “You look cold… are you done eating? Let’s take this conversation to the living room, there’s a nice fireplace there.”, without waiting for a reply, he got up and kept talking as he left the kitchen “I had a reason to grow up so fast, you see, there were things that needed to be done…”, I followed him because he seemed really pleased to have an audience to whom he could talk about his life goals, but also because I didn’t want to be left alone in the kitchen with that strange dark altar behind the table.

He sat on the rug in front of the fireplace and took off his weird looking goat shoes “you, humans, let yourselves be distracted by what you believe is a higher purpose… women tell themselves they’re looking for love, men make themselves believe they want power, but in the end you all want one thing: immediate gratification. Usually through carnal pleasure. I cannot let myself be distracted by that…” I sat down on the rug as far from him as I could, still wrapping myself on his jacket “But weren’t you ever curious?”, I knew I was!

“I’m not curious, I’m on a mission!”

“But it’s not just that! Sure, it is pleasant… but it’s also about connection.”

“Connection? With people? Please… what part of that should I find enticing?”

“I’m serious! It’s not just about having pleasure, it’s about sharing it with someone! Having each other at the most vulnerable and the most powerful, at the same time… we all crave that feeling with every fibre of our beings! Don’t you?”

He looked at me and I could see blue flames dancing in his eyes, there was nothing of the ice that had been there before. He was all fire, and I felt my own cheeks burning as well. I was panting, and I didn’t know why. I couldn’t hold his gaze much longer, I lowered my eyes to his exposed collarbones. That was worse. Far worse. I felt my entire body burn, now. I bit my lower lip and heard a low chuckle. “If that’s such a magical, intense pleasure… why do people get so mad about rape?”, there was a bitterness to his voice, like this was a very personal subject to him. Clearly he wasn’t speaking from first-hand experience, or he wouldn’t need to ask this question, but he was clearly talking about someone who was close to him. “Because rape isn’t sex, it’s violence. If I hit you on the face with a shovel, you wouldn’t exactly call it gardening, would you?”, it was his turn to bite his lower lip “Fair enough.”, he nodded.

After a heartbeat he lifted his eyes to me again, they were glowing warm like molten silver, incredibly sweet. His cheeks were flushed, as imagine mine were too, his rosy lips still wet in the firelight, the silvery blue eyes resting on mine for what seemed forever as he took a deep breath. “Would you show me?”, his voice much lower than it had been the entire evening. Before I knew what I was doing, I had my hand on the back of his neck, pulling him close, and covered his lips with mine.

He responded with an enthusiasm I could not have anticipated, pulling me impossibly close and kissing me back with a thirst that felt entirely new. His honey lips on mine while his entire body felt made of flames, and I was happy to be consumed by his flames. The moment his delicate tongue found mine, I felt a deep moan vibrating from de back of his throat. I was already aching for him. I straddled his hips, trying to find contact, grinding down for friction. I wanted to feel him with my entire body. I felt like I would never be truly satisfied unless every molecule in my body was touching every molecule in his.

My fingers were working the buttons of his waistcoat and dress-shirt, removing his leather belt, with feverish desire. His lips and tongue caressing my neck so lightly I almost cried. His upper body seemed carved in marble, perfectly smooth and slightly tanned… so warm to the touch, so inviting. He held me in a sweet embrace for a moment, while we both tried to steady our breathing. His large hands firmly on my back, my fingers running down his while I kissed his shoulder. We remained there for a moment, just breathing together, enjoying each other’s warmth and closeness.

His kisses started on my neck, moved to my jawline making me grind down on him again, gasping slightly. His hands moved from my back, his touch ghosting over my breasts. He pulled back a little to look me in the eyes, asking for permission. I took his trembling hands on mine and kissed his fingertips lovingly, slowly. Then I placed them on my breasts. He inhaled shakily and closed his eyes, I moved my hips a little and watched, not without a little satisfaction, a small crease forming between his eyebrows as he moaned softly, his lips slightly parted.

He buried his face on my chest, kissing the tops of my breasts that weren’t covered by the white nightgown, his hands gently kneading me where the skin was not exposed. His thumbs found my nipples through the thin fabric, touching them in circular motions. I steadied the pace of my hips, my whole body shaking, I felt myself clench around nothing, craving to feel him inside me.

He laid me down on the rug, and removed his trousers and underwear before lying next to me. Holding his head with one hand, supported on his elbow, he ran his fingers up my dress, his fingertips barely touching the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, his gaze never leaving mine. The molten silver in his eyes seemed to come to a boil when he found the wetness between my legs. He slipped one finger inside me and I threw my head back, eyes closed, biting my lip to keep myself from whining. He pulled the finger out and slid it back in, with a another finger this time. He bent both fingers a little, reaching that sweet spot inside me and I arched my back, a loud moan escaped my mouth.

He kissed my shoulder that was nearest him, while he pleasured me with his fingers. “Can I…” his voice was slightly raspy, so he cleared his throat “May I… taste you?”, I nodded looking in his eyes. I don’t think I could speak to save my life at that moment. Without looking away he pulled his fingers from inside me and took them to his own mouth, sucking them clean. His eyes still intently on mine he leaned over and kissed me slow and deep. I could taste myself on his tongue, and that only made me want him more.

He moved on top of me, his legs between mine, his hands pulling the white dress up above my head. At that moment I felt something I had never felt before. Like I was exactly where I was supposed to be. Lying under his body, no fabric between us, just skin on skin. His eyes on mine. It just felt right, somehow. Like this was the only reason I was put on this world: to feel him, to look at him. But I needed more. I reached for him with one hand and slowly guided him inside me. It was only when he filled me up that I felt truly complete.

His eyes were closed, his exhaling almost a sob. He lost himself to the sensation. I was trying to get used to his size, it was more than I had ever felt, he was stretching me out in a way that wasn’t at all unpleasant. He pulled out a little and pushed himself in again, whimpering lightly. He looked so young, so helpless, without thinking I placed my hand on his cheek and he opened his eyes looking almost surprised to find me there, his face lit up with a smile when his eyes found mine and he kissed me, moving his hips away, never leaving me entirely, before sliding back in harshly, making us both break the kiss gasping.

“I’m sorry… did I hurt you?”, his hand on my hair, his eyes on mine again. “Quite the opposite!”, I giggled and he did the same, relaxing a little. “You don’t need to hold back, Michael. I’m a big girl, I can take it.”

Now, why would I say something stupid like that? No matter how big a girl I was, this man was still a little more than human. I’m pretty sure he could tear me apart if he wanted to. But now my words made him relaxed enough to pound into me without mercy. He would at times pull himself entirely out and slam back in with a loud groan, his forehead resting on mine, tears stinging my eyes. He was going so deep, so hard, I knew I was gonna be sore in the morning, but it really didn’t matter then. Pleasure and pain. It’s amazing how often those two can go side by side.

At other times he would take himself out and slide back in agonisingly slow. As much as I craved to have him filling me up again, his moaning during those times was music to my ears. And when I felt him back inside me to the brim, I could cry in ecstasy, my fingernails on the smooth skin pf his back. His face showed nothing but wonder when he would look at me while burying himself deeper between my legs. Sometimes he would just close his eyes in abandon, and I felt tears leaving my eyes. I had never seen anything so beautiful.

His thrusts grew sloppier, he was losing himself to the feeling again. Panting heavily against my face, whimpering bellow his breath. I dug my fingernails on his back when my orgasm washed over me, making me clench around him, milking him for his. Throwing his head back, he came undone, throbbing inside me. Tears spilling from his closed eyes, a soft moan escaping his parted lips. He looked so much like an innocent boy as he looked like a mighty god. As the wave of pleasure washed away, he touched my forehead with his again. Both of our sweaty bodies shaking, while we did our best to breath normally again.

“Thank you.”, his voice was very low, almost shy. And I giggled, surprised, at his unusual post-coital remark, “Sure, any time!”. “What? People don’t usually say that?”, he was chuckling a little himself as he looked at me. “They really don’t!”, we were both laughing now. He brushed his nose on mine “But I really do… thank you, I mean.” he looked very serious now, and I kissed him as tenderly as I knew how. Trying to tell him with my lips and my tongue what I couldn’t bring myself to say out loud: that I was thankful, too. It had been an honour and a privilege… and a pleasure. So much pleasure, it didn’t seem to belong in this world.

He fell asleep with his head on my chest. I ended up dozing off myself, while running my fingers through his hair. Just savouring the perfectly blissful moment, the weight of his body, the scent of his hair, the peaceful sound of his breathing lulling me to sleep.

I woke up on the sofa, apparently someone had carefully placed my sleeping body there and covered me up with a blanket. This someone was sitting on the rug now, wearing nothing but his boxers and black dress-shirt, with the sleeves still rolled up. He had all his attention focused on the binders before him, that he was leafing through by the firelight. The white dress I had bieen wearing was very tidily folded over the cushion by my head. I grabbed it and put it on, standing up.

He looked up and gave me one of the bright smiles that I was beginning to grow fond of. (Who am I kidding? By now my heart was already doing somersaults whenever he would so much as glance in my general direction…) “I didn’t mean to wake you up… you were sleeping so peacefully!”, he held out a hand, inviting me join him by the fire. “How long was I out?”, again. I was beginning to wonder if I was keeping track of time AT ALL, at this point. “Less then an hour, don’t worry…”, cupping my face in one hand he kissed me slow and tenderly. He ended the kiss in a grin of contentment, touching my forehead with his and gently brushing his thumb on my cheek.

“What are these?”, I pointed at the binders with my chin. “Cooperative papers, plans for the safety bunkers, boring but necessary stuff… I was trying to find a way to place you in one of the Outposts”, as usual most of what he was saying made no sense to me, and also as usual it probably showed on my face. He took a deep breath, and lowered his eyes, he seemed to be making an effort to speak now “Listen, you don’t need to panic, I’ve got it all figured out, I had a meeting last week, with some people… big… important people… you may call them World Leaders”, he did quotation marks with his fingers at these two words, “we’re working on building strategically placed Outposts, to protect those who can make an intellectual or cultural, or even biological, contribution to the world we’ll be creating.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I told you I was on a mission… humanity is doomed, there’s going to be… an incident. Involving nuclear bombs. A few months from now. After the Nuclear Winter, we’ll have a chance to start over, make everything new, from scratch. Make it… better.”

I got up on reflex, getting away from him in horror. How could he be so calm when he was talking about the death of billions of people? And then I remembered: he was the Antichrist after all. What was I thinking? That he was just the sweet boy I made love with? How could I forget this not so small detail about him? “You don’t need to be scared… it’s alright” he was getting himself up too “Trust me. I can keep you safe.”

“I don’t wanna be safe! This is insane… you can’t be serious!”, I felt more naked now then I did when he took my dress off. “I will rebuild the world in my father’s image, it will be a better world!”, he took my hand “And you’ll be there to see it! No more lies, no more hypocrisy… imagine that! The end of treason and ignorance, only the truth and knowledge will be allowed to exist in this new world. But we can’t achieve that with humanity as it is…”

I pulled my hand from his grasp, but I couldn’t speak. I just stood there shaking my head in disbelief, looking at him through the tears in my eyes. He grabbed one of the binders that were resting on the rug “I found the perfect spot for you actually, the newly-elected president of a South-American country is pure scum! A very unpleasant little man… just the sound of his voice is enough to set my teeth on edge! I never wanted him taking someone’s place in the Outposts, anyway…”

“Stop it, Michael! Stop this nonsense! I don’t wanna take anybody’s place in the Outposts… scum, or not!”

“You don’t know what you’re saying…”

“I do! I don’t wanna be some privileged asshole safely hidden in a bunker somewhere while the rest of the world bursts in flames!”

“You won’t be thinking that when you feel your flesh burning from your bones and you’re reduced to nothing but ashes!”, he nearly shouted the words at me, and I was downright terrified. In that moment I realised that I had never seen him angry, and the idea of it was scarier than the Armageddon itself. He took a few deep breaths, I saw he was trying to calm himself down. He took me in his arms, one hand on my waist the other on my hair, his forehead on mine again “please, please… I don’t wanna lose you… you gave me something I never knew was even possible… please let me save you… stay with me…”, I could tell by his voice that he was on the verge of tears himself.

“Michael, listen to me. I don’t care about surviving if everyone else is going to die. When the world is consumed in flames, I want to be with my family. Surrounded by the people I love the most. With music, laughter and good food. I want to be in my Grandma’s backyard. Eating one more of the delicious meals prepared by my aunt. While my brother plays our favourite songs on the guitar. I wanna be holding my mother’s hand. My little niece sitting on my knee, telling me a funny story. THAT’s how I’d want to go. That’s the kind of person I am!”

He looked at me through teary eyes “Is that your final word?”, I put my hand on his face and kissed his lips very softly “Yes.”, silent tears were streaming down his cheeks now “You don’t need to save me. The privilege of dying happy is all the salvation I need… Just give me a heads up, if you can. So I can go back home to my family in time, will you?”. He swallowed hard, and his expression became even harder. His eyes went cold all at once, with that familiar icy glint, and the remaining tears running down his cheeks looked completely out of place on a face devoid of emotion. “I will not let you down”, his voice hard and cold as steel. With both hands, surprisingly warm and gentle, on my shoulders he kissed me very softly between the eyebrows.

After that I remember being back at the library. With no idea how I had gotten there. In fact I had no idea I had ever left. I worked there for the next months as if that night had never happened. Like I had never been kidnapped by someone’s Miss Mead, or met the boy-Devil with the face of an angel. I didn’t even remember I had loved that boy for eternity in one night. And I definitely had no clue of the nuclear holocaust to come. In fact, it was just another day’s work at the library when the Cooperative officers arrived, less than an year later, to take me to the Outpost.

To bring me here.

It was bad enough living in Outpost 3 all this time, with all their rules and the fear, knowing everyone I had ever loved, everyone I knew, had died a most horrible death. But knowing that I was standing face to face with the man responsible for ending the world was a horror beyond comprehension. And we had been so… intimate. Our encounters had not been numerous, neither had they lasted for more than one night at a time. But those had probably been the most intense nights of my life. I knew I loved that man. Damn my soul, I loved him with everything I was. But I also hated him. For everything he’d done I hated him. For destroying my world and killing everyone I knew… TWICE.

I heard sounds from downstairs, one of the heavy isolation doors opening and closing again. Someone was inside the outpost. Before I could say anything, before I even had a chance to react to my newly recovered memories, Michael pulled me to himself and kissed me with a burning passion that I couldn’t help responding to. “Go to your room.”, he was speaking through gritted teeth, “Stay there. Whatever you hear, don’t come out. Wait for me.”

“Michael, you don’t really think…”

“For once in your life, do as I say!” and then much softer “Please.”

The desperation on his face was more than enough to silence my protests. Without another word I turned around and left for my room. As I was closing the door, I looked at him one last time, his silvery-blue eyes were on me, and those beautiful lips formed the word “go” in silence. I heard footsteps, apparently entering the great hall, and Mead came to his side in the balcony looking worried. They exchanged a glance and Michael’s face was transformed by rage, for a split second I thought I saw a flash of the white faced demon again. The last thing I heard before the door clicked shut were the sweet tones of a woman’s voice coming from downstairs. She spoke very softly, but I could hear her clear as day:

“Find our sisters.”


	5. Epilogue

“2015 is gonna be my year!”, I thought as I left my hometown to live in the big city. The job my cousin got me at the library was a blessing, and he seemed kinda proud to use his influence to help me out, he really loved being able to say that he “knew people”. But the truth is that I couldn’t stand living in that same old town, walking the same old streets, meeting the same old people… not after that nasty breakup that nearly broke me for good. I needed a fresh start some place where no one knew me at all. Sure, missing my family was a bitch. But at least my mom let me bring Vanilla with me… cats are family, too!

I loved walking to work in the morning. Even though my cheap-ass apartment was small and plain, the neighbourhood I had to walk through to get to the library was actually kinda fancy. Beautiful large houses, with nice gardens… the men seemed smart, the women seemed kind, and the children seemed happy. It was the margarine comercial life, the kind of life I could aspire living, someday. My favourite house was the one with the roses. The scent was absolutely overwhelming, I always ended up slowing my pace as I walked past it. Sometimes I could see a little boy at the window, he would wave whenever he’d see me, his cute little angel face lighting up with a smile.

I have only actually met the owner of that house once. I felt a little excited, to be honest, like I was meeting a celebrity, or something. This impressive middle-aged woman, with her blond hair perfectly made, wearing an elegant - if a little old-fashioned - dress, while taking care of her flowers. I greeted her good morning as I walked by and complimented her on her roses. I regretted opening my mouth the moment she turned around to face me. The woman looked downright furious. Damn my small-town manners! Thinking every single person I meet is a potential friend… Why did I have to bother this lady? The way she stared me down made me feel completely stupid, like my IQ had dropped at least fifty points during the time she took to remove the cigarette from her mouth and puff out a long cloud of smoke.

“They are lovely, aren’t they?”, she said it like she meant the exact opposite, “I honestly can’t stand them. They’re my grandson’s doing. If I’d have it my way, I’d never again lay my eyes on a rose bush for the rest of my miserable life!”. I thought her grandson was the little boy that was usually by the window, and wondered how that cute blonde toddler could possibly be responsible for growing rose bushes. But she tilted her head slightly, pointing at a young man I hadn’t noticed before, tending to one of the other flower-beds. “Michael, be the gentleman I tried to teach you how to be, and give this young lady a rose…” I could almost hear the words she didn’t say out loud, but was most certainly thinking “so she’ll go away at once”.

The young man named Michael plucked a rose from the nearest bush and turned in my direction. He was apparently in his late teens, and I saw the glint of the sun on his golden curls as he stood before me, handing me the rose. He gave me a shy smile and an even shier look from under long eyelashes. “Thank you, Michael”, I felt a sudden urge to be extra nice to this boy, probably because of the harsh way his own grandmother had addressed him. His blue eyes lingered on mine a moment longer, warm and sweet, and he gifted me with a most dazzling smile. I smiled back and quickly composed myself as best as I could. Nodding a wordless farewell to his grandmother and him, I continued my walk to the library.

That had been my only encounter with Michael Langdon, until the morning I saw a range rover collide violently against his body, running him over. Shock turned into horror as I saw the driver put the range rover in reverse gear and run him over again. It stopped, Michael’s body rolling on the asphalt. I couldn’t believe my own eyes, but the range rover was moving forward again, running him over a third time, and driving away from its victim at sickening speed.

It stopped abruptly almost beside me, to avoid hitting a stray dog. That was the most absurd thing that could possibly happen after what I just had seen! The driver and I locked eyes for a moment, and I saw she had copious tears running down her cheeks. This “triple-hit and runner” was not a monster, she was just a girl… like me. She looked at me with a strange familiarity, like she knew me. I was feeling some of that familiarity towards her as well, although I couldn’t explain why. I was absolutely sure I had never seen those big brown eyes before in my entire life. But somehow, I knew… under different circumstances, in another life, we could have been friends. I just knew it, by the way she looked at me. “I’m sorry”, she whispered through her tears, and drove away sobbing.

Michael’s grandmother was with him now, and I kept walking towards them as fast as I could. I was almost there when she dropped him back on the ground and moved away from him. “Go to hell!”, she spat those words at her agonising grandson and turned around. She went inside her house without looking back, slamming the door shut with a violence that seemed unnecessary.

I don’t think she was calling 911.

I fell to my knees by his side, my phone already in my hand to try and get help. I felt my stomach drop as I looked at the bloody ruin that was his body. I wasn’t an expert, but I could tell he had several fractured bones, and possibly internal bleeding. His face was blood and tear-stained, his eyes wide. I couldn’t even begin to imagine the pain he was in, but when I looked into his eyes I saw mostly fear. I held one of his hands, the one that seemed less injured, as I dialled the number one more time. But no matter what I did, the call simply wouldn’t get through.

“It’s too late”, his voice was no more than a breathy whisper. He squeezed my hand faintly, his teary eyes pleading. I put my phone away and looked at him, both my hands holding his, I had to blink away my own tears so I could see him properly. “Stay with me”, he sobbed and I could almost hear the sound of my own heart breaking. “I’m here, Michael, I’m right here with you!”, my fallen tears making clear lines on his blood-stained cheeks.

“I’m scared… please… please, don’t leave me…”

“I’m not going anywhere, Michael, I swear!”

I had read somewhere that you were not supposed to move someone’s body in this situation, specially not the head. You may cause a new injure to the spine, and end up crippling the person for life. But I had a feeling that, no matter what I did, he was not getting up from there ever again. His body was beyond salvation, but his soul needed comfort. He was feeling scared and alone, and I could not bear the pain I saw in his eyes for another second. I pulled his upper body onto my legs, cradling him in my arms like he was a small child, caressing his face with my fingertips, doing my best not to cause him any more pain than he was already going through.

“You’re gonna be ok”, I knew I was lying through my teeth, but what else could I say? “It’s gonna be alright… just breath”, terrible advice, inhaling only caused him to cough and more droplets of blood escaped his mouth. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”, I leaned over him, cupping his cheek with one hand, and touched his forehead with mine. At least now I was being honest, I really was sorry. He was making a hideous gurgling sound on the back of his throat when he breathed… I didn’t know what else to do, I just wanted to take the pain away from him, somehow.

“Maybe… I deserved it… it’s my own fault…”

“It’s not your fault, Michael! It’s not!”

“I just… I don’t wanna be alone…”

“You are not alone! You hear me? I’ll never leave you alone! Ever.”

He looked at me with unexpected sweetness, his blue eyes warm like molten silver. The expression of pain left his face, being replaced by something that looked almost like peace. He seemed to be breathing a little easier now, and I saw the shadow of a smile on his lips. I tried to smile back through my tears, running my fingers through his curls. I wanted him to know he was not alone, that someone cared for him. For a few moments we just didn’t move. The whole world seemed to stop. Time itself was still. We just looked at each other. Breathing. Nothing to be said or done. He just needed someone to be there for him, I just needed him to resist.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second, with an angelic expression. When he opened his eyes again, a real smile was spreading upon his face. “Thank you”, he said very softly, before the light left his eyes. Sobbing, I ran my fingertips gently over his blue eyes, to close them, and let a long, painful wail leave my lips, coming straight from my heart. He looked so much like a sleeping angel, his face was so peaceful, I felt like I was never gonna be able to stop crying again.

I was willing to pay whatever the price to give him that. To make sure he felt loved, at least during his final moments. And I payed the price. I payed for it with my own heart.


End file.
